


Anyone else isn't you

by supersocialshark



Series: Worlds of Possibility [2]
Category: Ocean's Eleven Trilogy (Movies), Talented Mr Ripley (1999)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Crossover, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Jealousy, Linus is Linus not Tom, Linus is confused, M/M, Smut, Tess is a star, but nothing too graphic, there will be no murders or psychopathy in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 21:26:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21483094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersocialshark/pseuds/supersocialshark
Summary: Linus and Dickie meet and fall in love. Rusty is not impressed.
Relationships: Linus Caldwell/Dickie Greenleaf, Linus Caldwell/Rusty Ryan
Series: Worlds of Possibility [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1545073
Kudos: 106





	Anyone else isn't you

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own either the Ocean's films, its characters, or the characters from Talented Mr. Ripley.
> 
> English is not my first language. 
> 
> Title from the Field Mice song.

The official reason for Linus moving to California is ‘work’, whatever that means. It’s not like he’s going to have to work for another day of his life, but that’s what he tells people. Not easy being a pickpocket in Crime City, he says. Don’t want everyone to know whose son I am, he claims, as though Bobby’s reputation is limited to Chicago. 

He suspects his mother sees through him, and maybe his father does too, but the truth is Linus would rather jump off a cliff than lower his guard on this one. Especially when he realises his real reason for moving is not particularly thrilled about his arrival. If Linus cries about this for four days straight, he doesn’t let anybody know, not even his mother. Because on the fourth day, Linus meets Dickie Greenleaf at a party Reuben is throwing. 

* * * 

Dickie is a riddle that’s harder to solve than Rusty ever was. 

He’s not a fan of the transparent pickup techniques Rusty uses, but he once told Linus his nose was cute, and the pickpocket hadn’t stopped blushing for hours. Rusty had watched them interact with a clenched jaw, and Linus felt equal amounts of triumph and worry. Time after time he’s told himself he needn’t feel guilty about Rusty; if he’d been interested in continuing what had occurred a handful of times when they both were drunk, he should have showed some commitment. Not smiled scornfully every time Linus tried to have a serious conversation about where their relationship was going.

So Linus continues to see the charming jazz fan, partly because he’s enchanted by him, partly because Rusty doesn’t like him. And it doesn’t take long for him to fall in love, at least that’s what his euphoric fascination feels like. It feels different from what he had with Rusty, in a way he tells himself he likes. Dickie is a lot more outgoing, carefree in a more jovial way, always bursting with life, ideas and lust. Linus doesn’t know much about him. Every time their conversations have deepened, Dickie’s always looked as though he’s gotten at a raw and throbbing wound when asked about his background. And Linus likes him too much to worry about that, so he takes it slow.

* * *

They’re lying naked in Dickie’s king-size bed, talking about the eleven, about the Las Vegas thing, when Linus carefully brings it up again.

“And what is it that you do?”

“What is it that I don’t do?”, Dickie replies vaguely. “The thought of having a job freaks me out. Just doing the same thing day after day, your whole life. I panic just thinking about it.”

For a few seconds, Linus considers being concerned, but decides against throwing stones in a glass house. 

“I know what you mean. Like, thanks but my anxiety works well without me having to rot away at some office.”

To his bewilderment, this makes Dickie’s face light up in a grin.

“I knew you were an anxiety-guy!”

Happily, he throws a pillow at Linus’s face, and the pickpocket smiles uncertainly as he places it under his head. Rusty was never very supportive when it came to his mental instability. He’s not sure he should call Dickie’s reaction ‘supportive’, but he prefers it to Rusty scoffing or laughing in his face.

“So what are you like otherwise?”, Dickie continues unconcerned. “Are you the partying type?”

The partying type. What does that mean to Dickie the urbane? Linus knows what type this playboy is. The type to think he owns the world. Suddenly, Linus feels lost.

“Is it good or bad to be the partying type?”

“Probably bad.”

“Are you that type?”

Dickie doesn’t answer at first, only smiles and tugs carefully at the blanket draped over Linus’s naked body. Then he pounces, snatches the blanket and throws himself at his lover.

“Sure. I’m everything that’s bad.”

* * *

The next part should be introducing Dickie to his parents, but the mere thought makes Linus nauseous. It’s not like they won’t approve, or that they’re not going to like each other, it’s just… Dickie’s not a guy you introduce to your parents, ever. Linus is pretty sure Dickie and parents cannot even exist in the same universe. So what he does next is the closest thing to bringing his lover and his parents together; he tells Danny about him. And not even two hours later, Tess calls and invites them both over for dinner.

Dickie has heard of Danny Ocean, of course he has, so the two of them spend the evening talking about the host’s previous escapades, about prison, about Terry Benedict and the eleven. Linus notes how Dickie’s face falls at the implication that Danny has retired from criminal life and settled down, but he’s not sure Danny does. The older seems to like Dickie well enough, but he should have known that from the start really - the easiest way to get to Danny’s heart is through flattery.

All this leaves Linus and Tess with their own, somewhat tentative conversations. Mostly, they talk about his parents, or money, or Chicago as compared to LA - not about Dickie, and never about Rusty.

If Danny likes Dickie, Tess seems a lot more hesitant. All through the evening, she lets her eyes pensively wander between the two young lovers. Linus can’t read her. Is she concerned? When the plates are clean and it’s time for dessert, Linus offers to help her in the kitchen, and realizes as soon as the words have left his mouth that she can see through his helpfulness. So he decides not to beat around the bush and asks as soon as he places the dishes in the sink.

“Do you like him?”

Tess smiles, not unfriendly, but lenient in a motherly kind of way.

“I can’t help but like him. He’s very sweet, so sweet you’d want to spread him over warm toast like a jar of Nutella.”

Never before has Linus heard someone being compared to a jar of Nutella, but then again, has he ever met someone as addictively sweet as Dickie?

“Or no, he’s sexy rather than sweet, isn’t he?”, Tess continues. “Makes you want to groan, like when you’ve been cold all day and then hops in a shower so hot and steamy that your whole body contracts with unreserved pleasure.”

She’s rambling now, but Linus begins to understand what she’s getting at; something about brief and simple enjoyment with harmful consequences, and well, isn’t that Linus’s whole life in a nutshell? When he doesn’t answer, Tess’s motherly smile returns.

“All I want is for you to be happy. And I trust you.”

When they reappear in the dining room, it’s clear to them both that their lovers have been doing well with emptying the bottles of wine on their own. They’re both tipsy, Dickie more so than Danny, laughing too loudly and sharing intimate stories. When Linus returns to his seat, Dickie looks at him like a lion would at a juicy zebra. Linus’s world shrinks to nothing. He feels claustrophobic, trapped at this table. 

* * *

Two days later, someone knocks on the door to Linus’s apartment. He vaguely wonders if the person on the other side has been trying to reach him before, because their knock sounds impatient, and Linus’s apartment is for the most part empty - he practically lives with Dickie nowadays.

It shouldn’t really come as a surprise that Rusty seeks him out. Maybe he doesn’t want a relationship, but he always circles back to Linus, either when he wants to fuck or when he feels lonely. He’s visited Linus’s new place a few times, slept with him but never spent the night. But since Dickie made his appearance in Linus’s life, Rusty’s been notably absent. Until now.

He steps into the hallway before Linus has a chance to say anything, and slams the door shut. He looks at him through narrowed eyes, and Linus is not sure whether he should be nervous or amused. He hasn’t made up his mind once Rusty strides past him and into the bedroom.

“Is he here?” he shouts, and Linus decides not to act dumb.

“He’s not here”, he says and quietly follows his ex-lover, who has sat down on the bed. His eyes are still narrowed, and Linus avoids meeting his gaze, even though he knows this will upset him even more.

“So you’re- you’re like a thing now, the two of you? I decide I need some space and suddenly you’re what, married to this douchebag?”

“Do you know Dickie?”, Linus asks curiously, and Rusty snorts.

“Everyone fucking knows him. He’s bad news, Linus. Not any good for you.”

That makes Linus outright laugh, and he can feel the anger, which has been dormant for months now, start to boil his blood.

“What does that make you, Rusty? Because you’re real good for me, is that what you mean? God, what do you even want? You said you needed space, and now you’re suddenly storming into my apartment. I don’t get you. I was so gruesomely patient with you, decided to take things slow because it seemed like that was how you wanted it, but guess what? I have limits too, and you fucking brought me to the breaking point.”

Rusty stays silent during his outburst, but doesn’t have the decency to look remorseful or even slightly ashamed. He simply looks at him, and says coldly:

“Are you finished with the bullshit? I was hoping you weren’t going to be smug and make this about jealousy or some shit. It’s just a warning, kid. Stay away from Greenleaf.”

But Linus simply laughs dejectedly, and shakes his head at the absurdity of the situation.

“You had your chance, Rusty. Plenty of them, really. But I’m with Dickie now, and you can’t just swoop in and decide you’ve changed your mind like the two of you are business rivals.” He turns around to leave the room, but hesitates at the threshold.

“Was it Danny who told you? That we’re a real couple now, I mean.”

“Yeah. I talked with him the day after your cutesy little family dinner. He seems to really like that dickhead.”

The discontent in his voice is evident and makes Linus smile. Rusty may not want to admit it, but even to the ever so unassuming Linus, it’s clear he is jealous. His eyes are dark and clouded as in pain, and slowly he rises from the bed.

Linus is not sure why it is that he’s always drawn towards Rusty as though he were magnetic. It’s always the two of them. Pole to pole. For a few seconds, once he looks into Rusty’s eyes, Linus is sure he cannot live without him - so he doesn’t back off when Rusty leans in and kisses him. 

For a moment Linus leaves his own body and sees himself from above. How he’s standing making out with Rusty Ryan in his bedroom, a bedroom that has been frequently visited by both him and Dickie. But Dickie is strangely easy not to think about. Right now, only one person exists for Linus, and he can feel himself being reborn against his slender body.

When Rusty breaks the kiss, Linus comes down from his high, but is still absorbed by his being. He sees, thinks and breathes Rusty, it’s celestial but confusing. His fingertips search and find the waistband of Rusty’s boxers, and he lets them dance along it before sneaking a hand inside. Rusty’s hand on his back is warm and damp with sweat. 

“Linus. Linus. Linus, Linus…”, he whimpers and presses him closer. No one has ever uttered his name quite like that. All he feels is Rusty, his hands under his sweater, his lips burning with the intensity. He’s alive now.

* * *

The wall Linus had tried to build between himself and Rusty falls. Everything falls. The sensation he’d felt in his lower stomach when Rusty had sat on his bed and looked at him with jealousy clouding his eyes - it had ached in a not entirely unpleasant way. And now, the day after, he feels nauseous with agony at the same time as a dash of tingling joy bubbles like carbonic acid in his blood. He wonders what it is that makes him just give in to Rusty. Rationally, he knows the man is an asshole and that he deserves better.

Is Dickie better? Is Dickie what he deserves?

Technically he doesn’t deserve Dickie since he’s cheated on him. Oh lord, what is he gonna tell Dickie? Rusty had laughed at him in post-coital bliss when he’d anguished about Dickie. 

“It doesn’t count as cheating”, he’d said, “not when it’s me.”

What had he meant? He’d left with a kiss and an “I’ll see you around”, and Linus had been too wrapped up in thoughts to ask.

In a way, they are oddly similar, Linus’s two lovers. He envies their transparency. Rusty and Dickie go their own ways and have never had common sense enough to feel ashamed of themselves. They are unabashedly themselves, never having to act witty or interesting in order to feel loved. Everyone loves them anyway, without them making any effort, simply because they’re so amazingly good looking.

Is that why I like them?, Linus thinks, suddenly feeling appalled by his own possible superficiality. But it passes quickly, because deep down he knows why he’d been intrigued by the both of them at first sight - it’s because they’re diametrically different from Linus himself, and still willing to stick around. Linus isn’t very used to people sticking around, and for a while, he’d believed Rusty to fit into the category of people who’d grown bored of him, but now, at the worst time possible, Rusty had decided to stick around anyway.

* * *

Linus is standing at the foot of Dickie’s bed (Dickie’s and mine, he thinks with a surge of satisfaction), tenderly folding his lover’s clean underwear, when he throws a glance out the window and sees a cab parking in front of the building. Curiously, he watches a plump man in a green cap get out of the backseat. Linus thinks that the man looks somewhat like a root vegetable, and then he notices Dickie has sneaked up behind him, also watching the cab. 

“Um, that would be Freddie down there. He’s going to stay here for a while.”

Nervously, and without saying anything, Linus awaits the rest.

“His place has been infested by bedbugs.”

“His place has been infested by bedbugs?”, Linus repeats dumbly.

“Yeah, and he’s an old friend so I figured… you don’t mind, do you?”

Linus stares at the root vegetable now making its way towards their street door, wondering where his sudden feeling of aversion is coming from. After all, Linus doesn’t actually live here, and why wouldn’t Dickie help an old friend out?

“He won’t stay long”, Dickie continues, then he frowns. “Or… well… how long does it take to get rid of vermin?”

“It’s not very nice to call your friends vermin”, Linus says in a weird, robotic voice, and Dickie makes a sound that might be a laugh, but might as well be a sigh. 

He disappears to let his friend in, and Linus returns to the laundry. He has no desire whatsoever to join his boyfriend in a welcoming committee. 

His thoughts wander unsought to Rusty; it’s been five days since their encounter in Linus’s apartment. They haven’t seen each other again, but they’ve been in contact. Again, Rusty has laughed at Linus’s guilty conscience, told him that ‘nothing beats some good old infidelity’ that he was proud of him, that he had ‘never thought you had it in you, kid’. Linus supposes all this should make him want to sever all contact with Rusty and devote himself wholeheartedly to Dickie, but instead, it’s made him feel better about his own duplicity. Even now, the mere thought of Rusty gets him in a good mood, and he feels like the other two probably need his company now. 

He can hear them all the way into the bedroom, even though they’re clearly in the kitchen; Dickie’s root vegetable of a friend seems to possess a voice capacity that will inevitably drive Linus crazy sooner or later. 

Dickie and Freddie are drinking coffee from those lavender cups Linus adores, and as he makes his way into the kitchen, the large man falls silent and watches him with an evaluative gaze. It seems strange that someone as fine-limbed and self-aware as Dickie can be friends with this blustering, unrefined root vegetable, inviting him into his relatively small kitchen, letting him drink from such a frail little cup. 

Before any of them realise they’ve been quiet a little too long, Dickie clears his throat, and without looking at either of them says:

“Freddie, this is Linus. Linus, this is Freddie. I believe you both know each other from hearsay.”

“I do”, Freddie agrees, “you were with Danny Ocean in Las Vegas.”

It’s more of a statement than a question, so Linus simply nods as he nervously sits down next to Dickie. Freddie still hasn’t stopped staring at him. 

“What’s your secret?”, he asks abruptly, and Linus frowns.

“Pardon?”

The other man lets his gaze wander briefly to Dickie before turning back to Linus, this time with an unfriendly smile on his face. 

“Well, you managed to make a legendary burglar recruit you, you managed to ensnare Dickie, and from what I’ve heard Rusty Ryan as well.”

Linus freezes at the mention of Rusty’s name. He had no idea their ...fling… was common knowledge. Honestly, he hadn’t even been certain Dickie was aware since neither of them had ever mentioned it. But from where would Freddie have heard it if not from Dickie? 

The others don’t seem to notice his difference in posture and behavior, and Freddie continues:

“Three powerful, influential men by your side, and yet you don’t seem very impressive. So what’s your secret?”

Of course, Linus had known from the start that Dickie’s old friend wouldn’t be a pleasant acquaintance, but this was an even crueler greeting than he’d imagined. Helplessly, he looks at Dickie, who doesn’t seem like he’s going to come to his rescue. 

He guesses the best way to answer the question, as well as put this ruffian in place, would be to show off his pickpocketing skills, but he feels self-conscious. Dickie has always been impressed by this certain talent of his, but would he appreciate Linus subjecting his old friend to this? To be on the safe side, he dismissively jerks his neck, and Freddie smiles triumphantly. Foolishly, Linus still waits for Dickie to defend him, but as he turns to his boyfriend, he finds him smiling in agreement. 

* * *

It’s long past midnight when Linus wakes up to find the apartment empty and quiet. After dinner, the two old friends had gone out ‘for a few drinks’. They had invited Linus to come, but after having suffered through a long and gruesome dinner with this beast of a man who seemed to have decided to dislike Linus before even meeting him, he could think of more pleasant ways to spend the rest of his night, like going to bed. 

He wonders why a few acidic comments had hit him so hard when that exact same thing was what he had to endure wherever he went - it’s simply his lot in life. Hell, his own father makes fun of him all the time, and whenever Rusty teases and picks on him, he feels himself falling a bit more in love with him. But then again, aren’t they doing it out of affection, without any malice whatsoever?

Rusty… would Rusty have acted the way Dickie did tonight? Linus finds himself thinking Rusty would have defended him, told the tormentor off. 

He sighs and reaches for his phone. 1.37. Biting his lip, he lets his thumb hover over his most frequently used contact. Is he up at this time? And more importantly, is he with someone? Not knowing feels unbearable, and as he gingerly presses the name on the screen, he tells himself he will hang up if Rusty answers. He just needs to know whether he’d be willing to answer. 

Rusty answers on the third ring.

Linus does not hang up.

It might be wishful thinking, but Linus can sense the slightest hint of concern in Rusty’s voice. He find himself hoping it’s him he’s concerned about, wondering why he’s calling at this hour, wondering about the light tremble in his voice. An extremely satisfactory feeling settles in the pit of Linus’s stomach at the thought, a feeling he hasn’t felt since he first met Dickie, when Rusty had watched the two with evident jealousy. Could it be that Rusty cares for him more than he’s letting on? Or is it just that he dislikes Dickie?

“Is anything wrong?”, Rusty asks after a few minutes of small talk, and he tries so hard to sound nonchalant, but this time the worry in his voice is clear, and to his horror, Linus feels himself tearing up. He’s a weeper, has always been, and his ex-boyfriend asking what the matter is after such a shit day is just too much for him.

“Dickie’s brought a friend over”, he answers, trying hard not to start sobbing, “he’s… well, just not very nice.”

“Come on kid, just tell me who it is. I’ve got people who can make it look like an accident.”

Linus lets out a sound somewhere between a giggle and a sob, and through the phone, he can practically feel Rusty smiling that affectionate smile he saves just for Linus.

“And to think”, Linus says giddily, “to think I used to believe Dickie was nicer than you.”

He doesn’t receive an answer to that, and he knows it’s because Rusty would rather die than have someone think of him as ‘nice’. Nevertheless, it’s the truth; Rusty’s nice to Linus, and if he’s never been nice to anyone else, well that just makes it even better.

The line is quiet. Obviously, Rusty must be at home, because there’s no background noise. Linus almost thinks he’s hung up, but then the other speaks again:

“What’re you wearing?”, he asks, and Linus snorts at that, because it’s simply so very Rusty-like.

“I- underwear. Just my underwear.”

He knows where this is going, and squirms in anticipation. He’s already all hot and bothered; Rusty has that effect on him. 

“Dickhead is not around is he?”, Rusty asks, and Linus rolls his eyes; he’d rather not think about Dickie right now.

“No, he’s out with his friend.”

“Good. Take those underwear off. If you’re good, I’ll do the same.”

* * *

Dickie comes home around 6 in the morning. Linus is still awake but hasn’t left the bed. He watches as his boyfriend stumbles into the room, not bothering to try to be quiet. 

When he notices Linus is awake, he smiles drunkenly and makes his way towards the bed. His gaze wanders from Linus’s face down to his bare chest, further down… his smile widens. He looks hungry. 

Linus allows him to lie on top of him, wriggle out of his sweaty clothes, kiss him despite his breath smelling of booze, hitch his legs up, place them around his waist...

The sex is temporary satisfaction, but the real, burning pleasure doesn’t arise. Linus angles his wrists backwards to support himself with palms pressed against the headboard. He smiles up at Dickie who pants and gasps atop of him, clearly not already having experienced a far more enjoyable sexual encounter earlier this night, with someone a lot more considerate. 

“You feel so good”, Dickie murmurs in his ear, his breath tickling his neck. Linus closes his eyes, trying to envision another man inside him. His other senses sharpen at this, and suddenly he’s very aware of how squeaky the bed is. He’s suddenly hit with the realisation that Freddie should be in the room next to theirs; he’s not exactly comfortable with the thought of Dickie’s friend hearing them, but Dickie’s unconcerned. He finishes with a shout, then goes completely still for a while. He doesn’t move until Linus starts squirming underneath him; he lazily lifts a hand and jerks his boyfriend off, clearly not as invested in his climax as in his own. 

Linus keeps his eyes shut throughout all of it, and when he finally comes, it takes all he’s got not to say Rusty’s name. 

* * *

The next day, Linus wants nothing more than to head back to his own place. Freddie’s calculating eyes follow him wherever he goes in Dickie’s big apartment, and Linus can’t tell what he’s thinking. He’s worried that their guest really heard them having sex this morning, and that he’s just waiting for the right moment to make fun of Linus. 

And the thing is, Linus is OK with people making fun of his boyishness, his naivety, his tendency to cry at practically nothing, his background and family, his shyness and awkwardness - but making fun of his sex life, that’s crossing a line. 

He knows it shouldn’t, but living life as a sexual being feels embarrassing to him, and has done so ever since he hit puberty. It’s bad enough that not only one, but two people at the same time are aware of his sex drive - he doesn’t need some rude, ill-disposed stranger initiated as well.

The nervousness is steadily driving him towards complete insanity, Freddie’s cold eyes seemingly never leaving him, his voice becoming more of a sneer for every time they speak to each other. Linus longs after privacy, yearns for the peace and quiet of his own home. But Dickie wants him to stay, and Linus knows him well enough to realise he’ll mope for days if he leaves anyway. And if there’s one thing Linus can’t stand, it’s when people are cross with him. 

So he stays, stays to have a David Fincher movie marathon, stays to eat tapas from the deli across the street, stays to hear Freddie go on and on about skiing in Cortina. When Dickie begins mixing drinks, Linus can tell he’s not the only one who’s grown bored of the monologue; but Dickie doesn’t try to change the subject, only nods along and claims he’s been planning to go to Cortina for a long time now. Linus hopes he isn’t telling the truth; he’s never gone skiing in his life, and after Freddie’s endless litany, he’d rather purchase a one-way ticket straight to Purgatory than spend his holidays in a skiing resort. 

As Dickie hands him an amaretto sour and Freddie a Jack and Coke, Linus can feel a hint of hope; if they’ve already come to the drinking stage, chances are both Dickie and Freddie sooner rather than later will want to head out. And Dickie knows Linus is more of a homebody; maybe he’ll get his peace and quiet sooner than he’d expected.

For the first time this day, Linus finds himself smiling. Freddie - who has left the subject of skiing and moved on to baseball - turns to look at him, a gleam of cruelty flashing in his eyes. He takes a sip of his drink, smacking contentedly.

“So Linus”, he says, a nasty undertone in his voice, “you still in touch with any of the others?”

Linus knows who he means, wants to tell him that yes, he’s in touch with all of them, not everyone thinks he’s a worthless, boring, gray little mouse. But he’d rather stay as far from the subject of Rusty as possible, so he settles on saying:

“Sure, I still see Danny every now and then. And Dickie and I met at a party Reuben Tishkoff was throwing.”

Apparently, he’s failed his attempt at not making the others associate anything with his ex-lover (his current lover?), because Dickie snorts.

“Linus’s ex was there that time too. Real prune that one, don’t understand what you saw in him. All he did was stand and glare at us, making an idiot out of himself. Not like they were still dating. I’m sure he’s the jealous type.”

Linus uncomfortably squirms in his seat, but Freddie lets out a guttural snicker. 

“Are you the jealous type, Dickie?”

Definitely not liking where this is going, Linus takes a large gulp of his drink, avoiding everyone’s eyes, pretending he’s somewhere else. Somewhere more enjoyable. Home alone, in his own home that is. Or… maybe not alone. Maybe someone’s there with him, someone he shouldn’t be thinking about in the middle of a conversation about jealousy with his boyfriend.

Linus lets out a groan, but the others don’t seem to notice. Honestly, Linus is almost positive his presence doesn’t make much of a difference for either of them. Instead of paying any attention to him, Dickie leans backs in his chair and answers Freddie’s question:

“Well, I used to believe in open relationships, practically all of my earlier love affairs have been non-monogamous. But to be completely honest, i quite like having Linus here to myself.”

Linus can feel himself blushing, the kind of burning, scarlet blush that only appears when confronted with the deepest sensations of shame. Freddie doesn’t exactly look happy either.

“You sound like you’re ready to settle down”, he says with his voice full of contempt, and Linus understands this will not make him grow on the man.

“It’s only been a couple of months”, Dickie shrugs, “bit too early to discuss that.”

But he doesn’t wholly reject it, which makes Linus feel like he’s falling into a Grand Canyon of despair. He has no idea what he’s doing, but he’s almost certain he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life with either of his two lovers. The indication that Dickie might want that surprises him. Even before he started seeing Rusty again, he thought of his relationship with Dickie as something temporary, perhaps because he’d assumed Dickie would eventually move on to people who fit better into his adventurous lifestyle. And in the last few days in particular, Dickie has seemed rather sick of him, almost ashamed of him. Still, he is quite certain Dickie wouldn’t lie about something like this, not to Freddie. 

He’s felt guilty every second of his waking hours the last week, but until now he’d assumed Dickie would be able to take it, he’d be mostly angry, it wouldn’t be that much of a hard blow would it? But now, a much more intense feeling of guilt starts to bubble like acid in his stomach. If he ever found out, would it hit Dickie a lot harder than he’d expected?

Before he can compose himself, Freddie asks the question Linus least of all would like to answer right now.

“And what do you say to that, Linus? You ready for that sort of commitment?”

He idly wonders if Freddie does this on purpose, loving the bad atmosphere he’s creating, knowing exactly what questions to ask to make the mood shift. He seems that sort of person, or he’s just born with his foot in his mouth. 

Of course, Linus can’t bring himself to answer. Under Freddie’s contemptuous and Dickie’s inquisitive gaze, he finds himself making a string of grunting noises, coming up with an answer that sounds somewhat like ‘nnghuuhher’. Freddie smiles coolly at him, and Dickie rolls his eyes. 

“Well, he doesn’t even seem like he’s ready for that conversation. Not sure you’ve got yourself a keeper, Dickie.”

At this point, Linus is so mortified he’s contemplating throwing the rest of his drink in Freddie’s face, but he’s quite sure it wouldn’t make things better. Carefully, he glances at Dickie, who looks as though he’s torn between laughing and yelling, though he’s not sure if it’s Freddie he wants to scream at, or if it’s Linus himself.

“I mean”, Freddie continues, either not sensing the mood or wanting more of it, “like you said, it’s only been a couple of months. And before that, he was seeing Rusty Ryan. Had they really broken up before you met or was it overlapping?”

Clearly he’s trying to provoke Linus into doing or saying something stupid, but the thing is, Linus doesn’t handle anger that way. He carries it on the inside instead of the outside. He’s not one to scream or make scenes. When the anger gets to him, he gets so angry he can’t form words. Instead, Dickie answers:

“No, they had broken up. Well, I suppose it’s a stretch to say they were ever really a couple. I think they were mostly just fucking.”

It’s the truth; the amount of time Linus and Rusty has spent actually talking, getting to know each other, keeping each other company instead of just fucking, is minimal. And maybe it hurts so much because of the accuracy, and hearing it from Dickie of all people. Dickie doesn’t know anything about Rusty, hasn’t ever been even close to talking to him, or talk with Linus about him. And there haven’t been many times where the man has been sweet to Linus, or expressed any interest in him other than sexually - but the times he actually has are all wrapped like cotton around Linus’s heart.

“I really don’t understand why you got yourself wrapped up with that man”, Dickie continues, “well I suppose he manipulated you. Easy target and all that. Strange really, I got the feeling Danny had fatherly feelings for you. He should’ve warned you about him, he must know what sleaze he is.”

“Don’t say that.”

Dickie and Freddie both look at him with astonishment, and it is odd, that Freddie’s been trying to get a reaction from him all night (all day really), and now it’s Dickie who’s making him lose his patience.

“You don’t get to say that. You don’t know him. He acts like a dick to push people away, he’s afraid of letting them in. He hasn’t ever been allowed to show his emotions, so he doesn’t because he doesn’t want to get hurt and he doesn’t want to hurt others.”

He’s been thinking along those lines ever since he met Rusty, but hasn’t been able to describe it in an efficient way. Turns out all it took was for him to be confronted with someone with preconceptions.

Dickie however, is not impressed with the explanation. 

“Come on, you know that’s not true. You just don’t want to let go of that part of your life. Move on, Linus, you were never meant to be together.”

“How do you know that?”

He hasn’t meant to say it, but the words are out before he can stop them. For the first time since Linus got to know him, Dickie looks insecure, looks like the words sting like a slap.

“Because you’re with me…” he says pitifully, then frowns and straightens up. “You broke up. Clearly you weren’t right for one another.”

“We never actually broke up, we just sort of drifted apart. Maybe things would work themselves out if we gave it another shot.”

Deep down, he knows he shouldn’t be saying this, but it’s like a dam has been opened, letting all the pent up emotions pour out. Dickie doesn’t look like a kicked puppy anymore, he only looks angry. Linus supposes that’s better. Freddie is watching them like one would a tennis game, clearly not uncomfortable or trying to intervene. It makes Linus even angrier.

“Maybe he’s better suited for me than you are”, he says, fully aware that his deepest, most secret thoughts are leaking out of his mouth as though his brain’s a sifter. “He’s not as fun or outgoing as you, but I’m not any fun or outgoing either. Maybe we’re a better match.”

“How can you even say that? I practically rescued you from that creep. I offered you an existence next to someone’s who’s not a delinquent, I let you into my life without any reservations. Because I wanted you, because I want you. I- we’re a couple.”

His voice is steady and his eyes are angry, but his words make all the anger seep out of Linus like air from a broken balloon. Suddenly, it’s more obvious to him than ever that he’s a terrible person. He hurts Dickie by not letting go of Rusty, he hurts Rusty by sneaking around, preferring to let people see him with Dickie. He feels like crying. But he doesn’t give in to it, not yet.

“I’m sorry, Dickie. I shouldn’t have… I’m… I should go.”

He gets up from his seat, wanting to leave for Dickie’s sake as much as for his own. But this makes Dickie’s face harden even more.

“Sit down”, he barks, “this conversation is not over.”

“It is for now. Now is not the time. I’m sorry, you just… try to enjoy the rest of the evening, you never would be able to if I were here anyway. I- I’ll call.”

And before Dickie gets the chance to react further, before Linus’s eyes can wander towards Freddie who’s probably enjoying this thoroughly, he has left the apartment. 

He makes it all the way down to the street before the tears start falling.

* * *

He wanders aimlessly for a while, sniffling quietly to himself, before getting into a cab. Earlier today, he wanted nothing more than some alone time, but he can’t bear to go home to his empty apartment right now. He doesn’t want to be alone anymore, he wants a shoulder to cry on. He wishes he were home with his mother.

He briefly contemplates going to Rusty’s before he decides he’s not able to face him either. And so the choice falls on two people who will be surprised to see him, but definitely won’t kick him out, or even ask questions if he doesn’t want them to.

* * *

He stays the night at Danny and Tess’s place. Indeed, they seemed surprised to see him, but they haven’t asked anything, not a single question. A couple of times, Danny has begun sentences that would have inevitably ended in a leading question, had Tess not shot him warning looks before he could even think of the right words. Linus supposes Tess understands, understood where his relationship with Dickie would lead before he could see it himself. Danny seems a lot more confused, but that doesn’t come as a shock; he never noticed anything fishy about Dickie, or about Linus, about their relationship. But when he does put two and two together (or when he’s got it all explained to him by Tess) he will probably be delighted things didn’t work out. Because, as much as Danny loves people who’s mastered the art of flattery (or rather, flattering him), there’s someone he loves more, someone who’s a lot more likely to kill someone than flatter someone; and there’s no denying Linus has chosen to return to that person. If that person will have him, that is.

Linus and Tess are left on their own for the first time when Danny heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Tess regards him with an unreadable look on her face, and Linus waits, let her speak first.

“So it’s over? Definitely over? Never-going-back over?”

Linus smiles faintly. He can’t imagine Dickie would take him back after everything he said tonight, after violently defending his ex, after humiliating him in front of his friend. And even if he would, Linus is certain he’d never go back. Dickie’s been an exciting acquaintance, and Linus is almost sure he loved him for a while - but it was never meant to last. Because even though he established a long time ago he’s a better fit with people who are different from him, there’s a limit to that too, as to everything.

“It’s over”, he settles. Saying it feels final, like there’s no taking it back now. It feels a lot like relief.

“And you’re OK?” Tess asks sharply.

A warmth blooms in his chest at her question, the seriousness in her voice. She cares for him. It feels nice, being cared for. He smiles at her, a warm, genuine smile.

“I’m OK.”

* * *

In the morning, Linus helps to clean up after breakfast. He offers to do the dishes; there’s something quite therapeutic about that particular chore.

The scalding water that washes over his fingers feels different from how it felt in Dickie’s kitchen sink. It wouldn’t surprise him if the Oceans have their own well. Or maybe it was just something about the calcium content in Dickie’s water. 

He washes porcelain that smells of jam and bacon while Tess and Danny are still sitting at the table. 

“You know kid, you’re welcome to stay for as long as you need”, Danny says, undoubtedly having been filled in on what was going on last night (or simply finding it comfortable to have someone else do the dishes). Linus smiles.

“Thank you, but I do have my own place. I need to leave when I’m done with this anyway.”

He glances back at the two at the table, catches them exchanging a worried look.

“I’m not going back there. Sooner or later, I’ll have to talk to Dickie, but not today. And preferably on neutral ground.”

And as promised, he heads for the door as soon as he’s finished with the dishes, not wanting to intrude any longer. Besides, he does have somewhere to go, even though it doesn’t involve Dickie. Danny bids him goodbye in the hallway, but Tess follows him all the way to the fence.

“I think I know where you’re headed. Am I right?”

Of course she’s right. Tess is always right. 

“Well kid, I’m not sure you have the best taste in men, but who am I to speak? And I do think this can work out, with the way you two keep gravitating towards each other.”

She searches his face for something, maybe a hint of sadness or pain, and then sighs. 

“We will always be here, you get that? When your parents seem far away, we will be here for you. Remember that.”

She makes a motion as though she wants to hug him, but stops herself and settles on patting him on the back. Then, with one last smile, she turns and makes her way back to the house. Linus stays at the fence for some time, fighting back tears. But this time, he thinks they might be tears of joy.

* * *

As he ambles down the path leading to the door, he notices he’s wearing the same gray sweater he had on the last time they met. He supposes Rusty won’t notice. Or maybe he will, because Rusty is funny like that, and a lot more perceptive than one might think. It doesn’t matter really, because the Linus inside of the sweater is a different Linus than the one wearing it the last time. 

As he rings the bell, he worries someone else will open the door; they were never exclusive and it seems unlikely that Rusty wouldn’t have found someone to entertain him in the past week. But the footsteps on the other side of the door belong to Rusty, he recognizes them - heavy, slow footsteps. He can feel him stare at him through the peephole and smiles tiredly. He’s not sure he can handle the mandatory greeting charade today. 

“You’re here!” Rusty exclaims as he opens the door. “Linus wants to play!”

“I don’t. I want to talk.”

Everything that’s happened must be reflected on his face, because Rusty immediately grows serious.

“Come in.”

Rusty’s house is untidy and smells of old fries. Linus wants to open a window but can’t be bothered. Rusty brings him to the living room and onto a threadbare couch. 

“You have this huge, luxurious house and still manage to make it look like a bachelor’s den.”

“It is a bachelor’s den”, Rusty laughs, “and I can’t be bothered to make it look as luxurious on the inside as on the outside when I’m the only one living here.”

They both tense at that, at the loaded statement that almost sounds like an invitation.

“It would probably be a lot more enjoyable to live here if I started seeing someone”, Rusty continues, looking straight at Linus, who can feel himself blush. “If that someone weren’t seeing someone else I mean.”

Linus clears his throat. He can do this. He doesn’t have a choice anymore. 

“Maybe that ‘someone else’ is out of the picture”, he says, and Rusty raises his eyebrows.

“I thought you looked different! How could I fail to see you’ve broken free from your shackles?”

Linus laughs at that, but composes himself quickly.

“But if you were to start seeing someone, would you- would you really let them do something about the mess you call your home? About the mess you call your life? Would you let them get that close?”

Rusty doesn’t answer immediately, and Linus can feel his heart sink. If Rusty wants to keep their relationship strictly sexual, Linus will have to turn him down. He doesn’t want that anymore.

“Not just anyone, I wouldn’t”, Rusty answers at last, “but there’s a specific someone who’d be allowed to turn my entire life upside down if he wanted. I think we might be thinking of the same person.”

They’re still looking straight at each other, not once averting their eyes. Linus’s heart clenches at the unbound, unreserved contact between them. They’ve never shared that before.

“Yeah”, he says, moving closer to the other man, “I really think we’re on the same page here.”


End file.
